You Don't Have To Say You Love Me
by Voodoo
Summary: This is my very first Newsies fanfic.... it's the story of Yesterday.... I know how I want this one to turn out, I'm hoping it'll turn out as good on paper as it does in my head! Oh, and it's PG13 because although it's only G/PG right now, it'll become PG
1. Starting Out On A Journey

You Don't Have To Say You Love Me  
By Voodoo  
Chapter 1: Starting Out On A Journey  
  
A/N: This is my very first fic just for Newsies! Yayee! I had an inspiration today and decided to write the fic for my latest character. So, yeah, this is Yesterday's story! Enjoy!  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies, Disney does. This story is all straight out of my head, but it was built upon the story line and characters out of that movie. In short, don't sue me, cause I never said nothin!  
  
April 12, 1887  
  
2 figures stood in the dimly lit room, silhouetted against the flickering fireplace. They were discussing something softly, and a young child laying in bed in the room above strained his ears to catch their conversation. The man paced along the wooden floor, hands in pockets, his eyes lit excitedly.  
  
"Just think about it, Agnes! All the endless possibilities of the West!!" the man exclaimed, forgetting the boy above. The woman put a finger to her lips to quiet him, and he waved his hand as if to excuse it.  
  
"But honestly, darling, think of it! Not only would it be an adventure, but we'd be creating a better life for ourselves!" He cried, and looking at his wife he continued "And the baby."  
Agnes put her hand to her stomach, where a small bulge was forming, and she smiled faintly.  
  
"If you think it's best, James, I'll go wherever you go." She told him, and he grinned and wrapped her in a huge hug, swinging her around him, ending in a soft kiss. They pulled apart and he smiled.  
  
"You won't be sorry, I promise you!!" he said, and she nodded, smiling as well. Upstairs, the young boy rolled over and fell asleep.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
May 31st, 1887  
  
James and Agnes sat on the seat of a covered wagon, the little boy sitting between them, smiling happily. They bounced along the dusty road, and the boy waved goodbye to his home of 5 years and then never looked back. None of them looked back, and they continued down the road.   
  
The hours crawled by, and eventually the boy grew bored. "Are we dere yet?" he asked, tugging on his mother's sleeve. She looked down at him and smiled.  
  
"Not yet, dear. Why don't you take a nap, and maybe when you wake up we'll be there?" Agnes suggested, and the boy nodded obediently and leaned on her arm and closed his eyes. Agnes looked up and James and smiled.  
  
"Poor thing. He'll get worse the farther ahead we get!" She laughed quietly, and James laughed along with her, grinning down at his son.  
  
"Oh, he'll have lots of fun once we're on the trail! Think of all the things there'll be for him to look at and explore? This is the chance of a lifetime!" James said, his eyes gleaming adventurously. Agnes shook her head and laughed.  
  
"I certainly hope he has half as much fun as you!" She teased, and he grinned at her. His grin faded as he noticed her look out to the distance and she stopped smiling.  
  
"How long did you say this trip would take?" She asked. James watched her eyes scanning the distant horizon, looking for the town.  
  
"Well, the actual trip along the trail will take us about 6 months. But we should reach Independence by nightfall, and then we'll set out in a caravan tomorrow!" He explained, and she nodded. He put a hand on her arm and asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?"  
  
Agnes turned to him and nodded, her green eyes sparkling with determination. "Yes. If you think this is best for us, then I trust you."  
  
James nodded, and took of his hat, running a hand through his dusty blonde hair and squinting into the setting sun. "We'll be there soon..."   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
June 1, 1887  
  
The day dawned bright and Agnes awoke early. She smiled at the little boy asleep next to her on the flat bed of their wagon, and kissed his dirty blonde hair. She got up to find that James wasn't there. She dressed quickly and climbed out of the wagon, looking around where they were camped. There were other wagons there, on the edge of the Missouri river, at the edge of Independence, camped waiting for the adventure to begin. Agnes tucked a flyaway piece of her coppery red hair behind her ear and headed back into the wagon. The boy was stirring, and yawned sleepily.  
  
"'morning, mama" He yawned, rubbing his eyes and trying to sit up. Agnes laughed and hugged him.  
  
"'Mornin, yourself!" She teased, and he grinned up at her. "So, are you hungry?"  
  
He shook his head. "Naw! Well..... maybe a liddle bit!" he grinned again, revealing a few wholes from lost teeth. Agnes just laughed once more and shook her head.  
  
"Well, have you made up your mind? Are you hungry or aren't you?" She asked, pretending to be stern, but her eyes were smiling.  
  
"I don't know about you two, but I'm starving!" came a voice from behind them, and they both turned around to see James standing there, grinning at them.  
  
"DADDY!" the boy cried, running up to him and throwing his arms around his neck, engulfing him in a hug. James laughed.  
  
"Good mornin, kiddo!" James greeted him, squeezing him and laughing. He then climbed into the back of the wagon and smiled at Agnes.  
  
"So, dear, what's for breakfast? I'm famished!" He asked, his stomach growling as evidence. Agnes laughed and replied, "I'm not sure. Do pancakes sound good to you?"  
  
"YEAH!" the little boy piped up, and his parents both laughed. He just grinned.  
  
"Alright, pancakes it is!" James said, grinning. "I'll go start a fire in the stove for you!" and he disappeared. Agnes hadn't even noticed that he had taken the little dutch oven out of the wagon and had it all set up out front for her. She took out all the ingredients needed for a small batch of pancakes and began mixing the batter inside the wagon. The boy sat watching her, grinning his almost toothless grin.   
  
"Is it almost ready yet, Mama?" he asked, and Agnes nodded.   
  
"The batter is all ready, all we need to do is cook it. You get dressed and then you can come and join me outside!" she told him, and disappeared out of the wagon to continue with breakfast.  
  
In only a moment the boy was out of the wagon, dressed and ready to eat. Agnes laughed. "Are you ready?" she asked, and he nodded vigorously. She handed him a fresh pancake, which he downed quickly. She shook her head and handed him another one, while fixing more for her and James.   
  
James sat on the seat of the wagon, and took his plate from Agnes and ate readily. Agnes ate and cleaned up, then turned to James.  
  
"When are we leaving?" she asked.   
  
"Shortly." He answered, pointing to the occupants of the other wagons, who were packing up the last of their camp and preparing to embark. James then set to packing the little Dutch oven and getting everybody situated. Once everything was put away and they were all seated at the front of the wagon, the little huddle of wagons began to move, headed across the Missouri River and on towards the infinite rolling plains ahead.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
August 31, 1887  
  
Agnes awoke in the dark of night feeling sick to her stomach. She managed to crawl to the edge of the tent they now camped in and outside before she vomited. She sighed and wiped her mouth with the edge of a ragged old apron and wondered if they had enough water to spare for her to wash this away. She decided against it and so weakly covered the area with dirt.  
  
"I wonder why I'm getting sick now..." she thought to herself, dragging herself back inside the tent. "I've been pregnant for more than 6 months! I should be over this." She shook her head and tried to go back to sleep.  
  
Later on, just after sunrise, the rest of the camp was beginning to stir. Agnes felt a bit better, not nauseous like earlier, and so she got up and dressed, deciding not to say anything to James. "No sense in making a mountain out of a molehill." She told herself, and settled herself to making breakfast.  
  
After they had eaten and were packing up to go a child nearby started to vomit. Agnes, after turning sharply to make sure that her child was next to her and alright, she looked around and saw the 6 year old child of the family in the wagon in front of them falling to the ground on his knees, clutching his stomach. His parents picked him up and told his sister to cover the spot with dirt and the train proceeded.  
  
"Mama, I'm thirsty." The child whined later on along the road that day. Agnes' own throat was parched, but she smiled at him and told him,  
  
"I'm sorry dear, but we don't have enough water for everybody right now. Can you wait for a little while longer until we find someplace to stop?"  
  
The boy bowed his head and sighed. "I s'pose so...." and he jumped down off the wagon to walk with the little boy from the wagon ahead.  
  
"Are you feelin better?" The boy asked. The other child, Tom, shrugged.  
  
"Yeah, I s'pose... I'se REALLY thirsty, though." Tom answered. The child nodded in reply.  
  
"Me too! My mama is thirsty, too, but she says we don't got 'nuff water for everybody... so we gotta wait 'til we stop." And he sighed again.  
  
"Oh well," Tom told him, "Hey look! A snake!" and he scurried off through the grass after the little green serpent, the other boy at his heels.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
THE END OF CHAPTER 1  
  
Sorry, I know that was short, but I know what happens next, and I don't want it to happen in this chapter, I wanna wait until the next chapter! Yes, I know Agnes and James' child doesn't have a name, and he's actually the main character, although it seems as though it is Agnes, doesn't it? :) Oh well, I think I may actually write Chapter 2 today, as well. Hm... I dunno. Anyways, PLEASE read and review!! I'd love you forever if you did! Thanks guys! Until next time,  
  
~*Voodoo*~  



	2. I Beg Of You, Don't Say Goodbye

You Don't Have To Say You Love Me  
By Voodoo  
Chapter 2: I Beg Of You, Don't Say Goodbye  
  
A/N: Heya! Well, tis Voodoo again!! Yeah, I know, so soon? Amazing for me! Well, that last chapter was soooo short that I felt I needed to make it up, so here's the next chapter! Oh, and thanks to Shasta for coming up with a name for the little tyke! I won't tell you here... you'll find out soon enough!  
  
Disclaimer: Yeah yeah, I don't own Newsies, go bug Disney!  
  
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September 17, 1887  
  
"CHOLERA!" the word spread through the huddle of wagons like wildfire. James, who had been discussing how to further ration water with another man in the camp, jumped when a child ran up to him and said, "It's Cholera, the man said!!"  
  
"Wait! What are you talking about? Who has cholera?" James asked the boy, who was looking as though he hadn't had this much excitement in a long time.  
  
"Oh, lots of people!! You can go over there and see for yourself!" the boy told him, and then ran off to spread the news. James shook his head and said goodbye to the other man and headed back to his wagon. They were camped outside of Fort Laramie and finally had access to a doctor.  
  
James quickened his pace as he strained to remember the symptoms of cholera. His memory was fuzzy, be he remembered hearing something about nausea and diarrhea and dehydration. He remembered how Agnes was thirstier then usual recently, but he dismissed the fact in his mind. It was quite warm outside and Agnes was pregnant, so she needed more water than usual. That was all.  
  
When James reached the wagon, he found his son sitting on the seat, his eyes widened, looking scared and quite alone. He ran up and asked him what was the matter.  
  
"That doctor man came up and asked to inspect Mama and me. So we let him and he told me I was fine, but he made Mama go with him over there." The child told him, pointing to the mini camp along the walls of the Fort, where the cholera patients were being kept. James' throat went dry, and he forced himself to stay calm.  
  
"Listen to me. Get changed and go to bed. Stay in bed until I come back. Promise me!" he said, struggling to keep the panic out of his voice. His pale blue eyes couldn't mask the worry, and the boy sensed this, but said nothing except "Yes, dad" and he disappeared into the back of the wagon to go to bed. As soon as his son was out of site, James walked over to the cholera camp, trying to make his pace seem normal. He reached the camp quickly and forced himself to remain calm.  
  
"Excuse me, I was wondering if my wife was here. My son told me she was brought away with the doctor in this general direction." He said to a man nearby. The man raised an eyebrow and said,   
"You shouldn't be here. You don't want to get it, do you?"  
  
James shook his head. "No, I don't want to get it. But I need to see my wife!"  
  
The man sighed. "Very well. Wait here for a moment, I'll go find the doctor. What is your wife's name?"  
  
"Agnes Johnston." James told him, and the man went into the nearest tent, emerging a few moments later with the doctor.  
  
"Ah, you're Agnes' husband?" the doctor asked, smiling, attempting to look cheerful.  
  
"Yes, I am. How is she? Why is she here? Is it the baby?" The questions came flowing from James' mouth, and the doctor smiled, though his eyes were worried.  
  
"No, it's not the baby. The baby is as well as can be expected. However...." and the doctor's voice trailed off. James' eyes grew large.  
  
"However?" he repeated, waiting for an answer. The doctor sighed.  
  
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but your wife has cholera. She has had it for awhile, apparently. I asked her if she had been unusually thirsty recently, or if she had felt nauseous or had diarrhea. She said that almost a month ago she started to vomit every once in awhile during the mornings. She tried to dismiss it as morning sickness, but she was already in her 6th month, so that should have long stopped. And she has apparently been very thirsty recently, but she also tried to dismiss that by it being so hot and she being pregnant and therefore needing more water. The fact is, Mr. Johnston, your wife has had cholera for about a month and she's known it."  
  
James blinked, his jaw dropped down in amazement. "You mean... she knew?" he stuttered, disbelief clouding his tone.  
  
The Doctor nodded. "I'm afraid so. She didn't want to worry you or the boy, but she knew. She's a smart one, that Agnes. I'll be sorry to see her go."  
  
At the doctor's final words, James snapped awake. "What do you mean, 'see her go'! She's not going to die! Is she?"  
  
"Yes. She is." The doctor told him, not meeting his eyes. James' eyes grew wild.  
  
"But you're a DOCTOR!! Do something to HELP her! That's your JOB, isn't it?!" He cried, furious. The doctor took a step away from him and shook his head.  
  
"There's nothing I can do. If she had gotten it yesterday, then perhaps I could have done something. But she's had it for so long, there's simply nothing any of us can do but wait for the end." The doctor explained, and James' face became incredibly pale. He nodded and turned and walked away back to the wagon.  
  
The little boy, of course, wasn't asleep. He pretended to be once his father was near enough to see him, but his father ignored him. He paced around the wagon with his pipe between his teeth, murmuring to himself. It was late when he finally went to bed. The boy was still awake and determined to find out what had happened. As soon as he could hear his father's snores from the tent, he climbed very carefully out of the wagon and ran to the doctor's quarters.  
  
He searched the tents and soon found his mother, lying pale and listless on a cot in the far corner of one of the farthest tents. He crept to her slowly, his little eyes widening with fear and sadness as he looked down on her.   
  
Agnes sensed someone's presence and forced herself to open her eyes. She saw her son and smiled softly.  
  
"Lawrence, what are you doing here?" She asked in a voice barely above a whisper. The little boy's eyes started were frightened at the frailty she possessed.   
  
"Mama, are you ok?" he whispered, and she shook her head.   
  
"I'm not right now, but I will be soon. Listen to me, Lawrence. I won't be here for much longer. I'm going on to a better place. But I want you to promise me that you'll take good care of your Papa. He needs you." She told him, taking his small hand in hers. He looked down into her eyes and saw the peacefulness in them. He sighed and nodded.  
  
"I promise, mama." He vowed, and she smiled, and stroked his head.  
  
"Now, go on back to bed. Don't let Papa know you came to see me, ok?" She told him, and he nodded and ran out of the tent.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The next morning when James woke up, he momentarily forgot about Agnes and the cholera. Then, when he rolled over and found she wasn't there, and she wasn't outside making breakfast, he remembered. He leaped up out of his bed and was about to sprint to the cholera camp when he remembered he wasn't dressed. He threw on some clothes as quickly as he could and ran to his wife.  
  
He entered a tent without permission from the doctor or anyone else. Some of the patients gave him strange looks, but he ignored them, searching for Agnes. When he saw she was no-where to be found in that tent, he left and ran to the next one, with again no success. He exited from that tent and was about to continue on when he saw the doctor and another man carrying a wooden coffin from one of the tents. His heart lurched and he hurried over to the doctor.  
  
"Doctor... sir... who was that?" James asked croakily as the other man placed the coffin in the grave near the edge of the fort. The doctor looked up at James and gave him half a smile.  
  
"Not your wife, if that's what you were worrying about. It was his son." The Doctor told him, and pointed to the man whose family had been traveling in front of them. His 6-year-old son Tom now lay in that wooden coffin, soon to be beneath the dust of the trail, forgotten after the train continued on. James's heart wrenched again and he imagined his own son in that coffin. He shuddered and the doctor gave a hollow chuckle.  
  
"Not a pretty picture, is it?" He commented, sighing. "If you're looking for your wife, she's in there." He instructed James, showing him the last tent. James nodded and set off, entering the tent to find most of the patients asleep. "At least, I hope they're asleep." He thought to himself, and then he spotted his wife.  
  
"Agnes!" he cried, rushing to her side. Her pale eyelids fluttered open and she gave him a small smile. Her breathing was quiet and irregular now.  
  
"How...how...how do you feel?" James stuttered, taking her hands in his and looking down into her eyes. She had a serene glow all around her, and he wondered if she knew she was dying, too.  
  
"I'll be fine soon. It won't be long now..." Her voice trailed off and she smiled at him again. "How is Lawrence. Does he know?"  
  
James shook his head. So she did know. "No. He doesn't. I haven't told him anything."  
  
Agnes nodded. "Good. He doesn't need to know until the end."  
  
"Do you want me to bring him to you? So you can say... goodbye?"   
  
Agnes paused for a moment thoughtfully, then nodded again. "Yes. I need to say goodbye before it is too late." James nodded swiftly, then hurried out of the tent at a run. He reached his wagon and hurriedly awoke his son.  
  
"Lawrence. Get up!" He said, shaking his son awake. The boy turned and looked up at his father, confused.  
  
"Your mother needs to speak with you. HURRY!" James said, quickly gathering some clothes.  
  
"Here, put these on. Quickly now!" James tossed the clothes to the boy, who stood dazed for a moment as the clothes landed on him. James noticed him and sighed. "Don't just stand there, we haven't got much time!"  
  
Lawrence nodded and changed as quickly as he could. As soon as he got his shoes on, his father dragged him out the door and led him to the last tent, where his mother was waiting. They entered and she smiled at both of them, although she seemed even farther away then she had been those short moments ago.  
  
Agnes took a hand from each of them and held them together in her own. "I won't be here for much longer. I needed to say goodbye, and to tell you to not be frightened. I love you both very much, and I'll always be with you."  
  
James tried hard to control the tears threatening to flow down from his eyes, while Lawrence was strangely calm. He nodded obediently when his mother finished talking and said, "I love you, Mama."  
  
"I love you, too." Agnes told him, squeezing their hands, and closing her eyes. James watched as the rise and fall of her chest ceased and her hands went limp. Then he couldn't stop the tears, and he threw himself over her, crying. Lawrence, however, sat very still, as though in shock. He got up and told his father, "I'm going to go play with Tom."  
  
"You can't, Tom's dead too!" James spat through his tears, and Lawrence's eyes widened.  
  
"Oh... well, I'm going back to the wagon, then." He said, and walked out of the tent as if he were in a dream. Mama was gone. Tom was gone. Who was left? Just him and Papa. And Mama had said to take good care of Papa after she had gone. How must he do that? Papa was so much bigger than he was...  
  
James got up after a few moments, and then went to give the Doctor word of Agnes' death. The doctor's eyes saddened a great deal, and he nodded. "We'll see to the burial right away."  
  
"Thank you, Doctor." James said, and he turned and walked back to the wagon.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
THE END OF CHAPTER 2  
  
Ok, this was kinda short, too... so shoot me! BLAH to that! OK, yeah, anyways... thanks to Smalls and Tiger who are the only ones who've reviewed this so far! And to Smalls, I guess it won't make much sense for a little while longer... I know what's going to happen, it's just the getting there that's the problem! Yeah, I guess that's all. PLEASE review it!! I'd love you forever if you did! THANKS!  
  
~*Voodoo*~  
  



	3. My Lovey Dovey Baby

A/N: And here it is, chapter numero tres of my story.... blah. I am just writing this off the top of my   
head because I seriously don't know how this is gonna turn out just yet. I realized a problem I had   
with what was GOING to happen and now it won't happen no more! I've gotten a better idea! Tra   
la la! So, enjoy this chapter because I am ACTUALLY WRITING! Oh, and while you're at it, go   
and read my buddies fics!! They're all listed on my fave authors list! Moving on....  
  
Disclaimer: **shows off a big sign Vanna White style that says "NEWSIES BELONGS TO   
DISNEY"** So there!  
  
You Don't Have To Say You Love Me  
Chapter 3: My Lovey Dovey Baby  
By Voodoo  
  
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September 18, 1897  
  
Lawrence Johnston awoke the morning of September 18, 1899 with a feeling of dread. Today   
was the 10th anniversary of his mother's death, and he knew it would be hard on his father. He lay   
in bed, remembering that day, how he had lost his mother, his best friend, and his father all on   
the same day. Well, only his mother had actually died that day. But he had found out his best   
friend was dead, and his father had practically died. He walked away from the medical tent   
outside Ft. Laramie an empty shell of a man, and had never recovered. He hadn't shed a single   
tear at Agnes' funeral, and he didn't seem to recognize Lawrence. He merely went about as he   
always did, feeding the horses, and when the caravan was ready to move on, he continued on   
with them. They hadn't gone with the rest of the wagon train on to Oregon City, but had stayed   
with a few other families in the small town of Bend, in Central Oregon, at the foot of the Cascade   
Mountains. His father had simply lost his will to go on, and Lawrence knew, even at his young   
age of 5, that his father needed to stop.   
  
They now ran a small grocery and had a modest living, but Lawrence was bored. He couldn't tell   
his father this, because on top of the depression caused by Agnes' death, James had taken to   
drinking. Every night after the store closed James would walk down and spend the evening at a   
local pub, leaving Lawrence alone to do what he liked. While Lawrence was younger, he had   
gone and played with his little friends that he had made in the town. But now, he was 15, and his   
friends had all moved away into bigger towns to find work and make a life for themselves.  
  
Lawrence longed to get out of the small town, to go out into the world and make something of   
himself, but he knew that if he left his father would go to ruin. Lawrence kept the books for the   
store, made sure it was stocked properly, and basically ran the store himself. When his father   
was sober he liked to think he was in charge and do things his own way, but when he was drunk   
he couldn't care less.   
  
On this particular day Lawrence was wandering the streets of Bend, looking for anything to do.   
His father had made it clear that since it was the anniversary of his mother's death, people   
shouldn't expect them to be working. So Lawrence was left to his own while his father went to the   
pubs to bum drinks off of people because it was his poor dead wife's death anniversary, may she   
rest in peace. Scowling, Lawrence kicked the dust along the street, walking to nowhere in   
particular.  
  
"Hey, Laurie, wait up!" a voice called behind him. He stopped and turned to see Christine, one of   
his only friends left in town. He gave her half a smile as she ran to catch up with him.  
  
"What's the matter?" She asked, knowing well what the matter was, putting her hand on his   
shoulder. He looked up at her, his deep brown eyes mutinous.  
  
"The same thing is the matter as is always the matter.... only today it's worse. It's my mother's   
death anniversary, and I know my father will come home tonight drunk as a skunk in a   
thunderstorm and then tomorrow he'll have a hangover the size of St. Louis and... God, Christine,   
I can't take being here much longer!"  
  
Christine sighed and nodded, her pale blue eyes showing understanding. She had first met   
Lawrence when he and his father had moved into town, only a few houses away from their own.   
They had become friends rather quickly, although now they weren't as close as they once had   
been.   
  
A year earlier, when Lawrence was 14 and Christine was 13, Lawrence had told her he loved her.   
Christine had been completely unprepared for it and she had broken down into tears, asking why   
he would say such a thing and crying that he couldn't possibly mean it. He was confused and   
asked her what the matter was, and she said she could never love him in that way, why couldn't   
they just be friends? Lawrence was furious and stormed off, refusing to speak to her for months.   
They finally made things up and Lawrence never mentioned love to her again. Now that she was   
older, she wondered if maybe she had been wrong, but she didn't want to bring up their past. The   
past, she learned, was better left dead and buried.  
  
"I know how you feel, but if you just wait, maybe things will get better." She suggested, and he   
shook his head.  
  
"You know my father! He won't get better, he's going to be this way until he dies.....until he   
dies......" Lawrence cried, repeating the last 3 words as if an idea was forming in his mind.   
Christine recognized the look and shook him by the shoulders.  
  
"Don't go getting any silly ideas, Laurie!! Life isn't like some stupid book, you can't go around   
killing people who are in your way!" She said vehemently, and he sighed, knowing she was right.  
  
"Still, it would be rather convenient if he just... died. Or went away and never came back, then I'd   
be free....."  
  
"What would you do if you were free?" Christine asked skeptically. Lawrence had only the   
knowledge of the Oregon Trail and then life here in small town Oregon. He didn't know what the   
world was like.  
  
Lawrence answered immediately. "I'd leave here, for sure! Maybe I'd go to Chicago or New   
Orleans... or New York! That's where I'd go, New York City!"  
  
"New York City? How's a dime store employee like yourself going to get to New York City?"   
Christine laughed. Lawrence grinned.  
  
"Well, if you must know, I've been saving up my money ever since we started the store! I already   
have enough to buy a train ticket as far as Chicago, and there's more work in Chicago then there   
is here... I could go and work in Chicago till I had enough to go on to New York!" Lawrence said,   
his eyes with a faraway look.   
  
"Are you sure? What would you do in New York, anyway?" Christine asked, shaking her head.   
The thought of him leaving wrenched at her heart, although she'd never tell him that.  
  
Lawrence looked stumped, then shrugged. "I'm sure I'd find something!" He replied, still looking   
away along the horizon. Christine sighed.  
  
"Well, I think you'd better think up a better plan then THAT before you try and go off anywhere!"   
she told him, and he nodded.  
  
"You're right.... besides, I can't leave! Dad's still here and if I leave him all by himself, he'll go to   
ruin." Lawrence told her. "Not like he already hasn't." He added bitterly.   
  
Christine gave a small sigh of relief. As long as his father was alive and in relatively good   
condition, she could keep Lawrence here with her.   
  
Lawrence shook himself inside. He had been gazing off along the horizon, imagining what life in   
New York City would be like. He knew he'd be there someday.... he just had to be patient.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
June 14, 1899  
  
//AN: MY BDAY!! TEEHEE//  
  
Lawrence sighed as he locked the shop's door and walked home. The last month had been pure   
hell. His father had been feeling worse and worse, refusing to see a doctor, insisting he was fine.   
Lawrence, of course, knew better than to try and talk his father into going to see a doctor. When   
he was sober, he was stubborn. When he was drunk, he was impossible.   
  
"How is he?" He heard a soft voice behind him ask. He turned around to face Christine, smiling   
up at him. She had changed so much in the past two years, now being at the age of 16, her long   
blonde hair was swept back away from her face from her days working in the inn. But a few stray   
strands had escaped from the braid and framed her face, giving her an angelic appearance. He   
smiled at her and shrugged.  
  
"The same as he has been. He still refuses to see a doctor... it's just a matter of time now..." His   
voice trailed off and Christine sighed as well. She knew all about how James was throwing up   
whatever he ate, often a mixture of food and blood. She shook her head and thought to herself I   
wish there was something I could do to help him.   
  
Lawrence started off towards home, Christine walking beside him. They spent most of their trip in   
silence until they reached Christine's house. She took his hand and squeezed it gently.  
  
"Don't worry, everything will work out in the end, you'll see!" She reassured him, and he shook his   
head and she let go of his hand and went inside. Lawrence continued a few houses down to his   
own home, silent of course, because his father was at the bar. Lawrence was about to go into his   
own bedroom when he heard his father's hacking cough in the other room, and decided he had   
better check on him first.  
  
Lawrence went into his father's bedroom to find him doubled over on the bed, pale as a ghost,   
and now quite silent. Lawrence rushed over to his father's bedside and began to shake him.  
  
"PAPA!! PAPA!! WAKE UP!!" he cried, panic flooding his voice. James never said a word, only   
laid there, pale as a sheet. Lawrence could see his chest rise and fall and he knew he wasn't   
dead yet.  
  
"Papa, PLEASE! Speak to me!" Lawrence cried, his hands trembling as he stared at his helpless   
father. James finally spoke in a voice no louder than a whisper.  
  
"I love you." He murmured, and his eyes closed forever in eternal slumber. Lawrence stepped   
back away from the bed, in shock. He didn't know what to do, but he knew he had to get out of   
the house. He stumbled blindly through the room and out the front door. He didn't know where to   
do or who to go to, but he knew he just had to get away.  
  
He began down the street, his eyes wide open and wild looking, and he nearly ran Christine down   
as she stepped out of her house.  
  
"Lawrence! What's the matter?!" She cried, noticing his agitated state. He looked up at her,   
relieved to find someone to talk to.  
  
"It's my father.... he died....." Lawrence told her, his voice sounding flat and bitter. Christine gave   
a small gasp of surprise and went closer towards him.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Laurie!" She said softly, sighing. "I suppose this wouldn't be the best time to tell you   
this...."  
  
Lawrence looked up immediately, gazing at her quizzically. "What do you need to tell me?" he   
asked.  
  
"Well, I just came home from seeing John Partridge and.... he asked me to marry him."   
  
Lawrence's eyes grew larger and he said nothing, only nodded.  
  
"And I said yes. We're moving to Seattle in a few months, after the wedding." She continued,   
watching him the entire time, waiting to see what his reaction would be.   
  
"Well, I suppose I had better give you my congratulations now, seeing as I won't be here for the   
wedding." Lawrence told her bitterly, his eyes not bothering to conceal the pain he was feeling   
inside.  
  
"Oh Laurie, you aren't really going to leave, are you?" She cried, tears building up in her eyes.   
She grabbed his arm but he shook her away, his eyes now hard and emotionless.  
  
"Of course I am! What do I have to stay for? My father's dead, all my friends are gone, you're   
getting married to somebody else...." His voice had begun angry, but trailed off and she knew he   
still loved her. She took a deep breath and asked  
  
"Do you still love me?"  
  
He looked up at her and sighed. "I thought I did.... but now I don't know anymore." She breathed   
a sigh of relief, for she truly believed she didn't love him, either.  
  
"When are you leaving?" She asked, hoping to take his mind off everything.  
  
"Tomorrow." He said abruptly, and she gasped.   
  
"But what about the funeral?"  
  
"I was hoping you would take care of that for me. Don't you understand, I can't stay here any   
longer?" He told her, shaking his head.  
  
"Not even long enough for a proper funeral for your own father?" She probed, and he shook his   
head.  
  
"No. Please..." he took her hands into his and gazed into her eyes. "Please do this for me?"  
  
Christine sighed and replied "Alright, I will..."  
  
"Good!" Lawrence told her with a grin, and pulled her close, kissing her lightly. When he pulled   
away, he dropped her hands and walked back to his own home, leaving Christine standing alone   
in front of her home, speechless. She had been convinced until that moment that all there was   
between them was friendship, but as soon as he had kissed her, she felt a flood of emotions she   
was unprepared for. She watched his retreating back and wondered what to do. Finally she   
decided to go inside and sleep on it.  
  
Lawrence, back in his own home, wondered what on earth had possessed him to kiss her. He   
shook his head, telling himself that a girl in this town was no good to a boy bound for New York   
City! He pulled out a sheet of paper and wrote down the funeral instructions for Christine.   
  
Leaving the note where he was sure she would find it, he decided he had better leave tonight. I   
won't be able to sleep at all tonight if I wait until tomorrow! He told himself emphatically, and   
packed a clean pair of clothes and all of his money that he had saved over the years in a jam jar   
under his pillow. It amounted to exactly enough for a fare to New York, but what then? Christine   
had a good point. What was he going to do with himself once he GOT to New York?  
  
"I'll think of that when I get there!" he said to himself aloud, and with that he left his house without   
a glance over his shoulder for the train depot, and within the hour was on a train bound for New   
York City.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The End of Chapter 3  
  
WOOHOO!! My longest chapter YET!! AlGHT!! This is awesome! Anyhoodles, sorry it's taken me   
so long to write another chapter, I suck at this! LOL! Anyways, reviews would be muchly   
appreciated, but yeah... that's about all I have to say! Hope you enjoyed it!  
  
~*Voodoo*~  
  



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